


Held

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 15:15:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1945992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a short lull after the storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Held

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Поддрежка](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4763168) by [Drumming_Song](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drumming_Song/pseuds/Drumming_Song)



> A/N: Drabble for abbeyjewel, who wanted Riker/Wesley cuddling. :) (Set mid S4, when Wesley would’ve been 19)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“No, stay,” Wesley murmurs, and he’s too sleepy to know at first if it came out right, but he sees the hesitation on Will’s face and knows it must’ve. Wesley makes another whine of a sound and tugs at Will’s broad shoulders, looming over him and blocking out all the light, and Will has the nerve to shake his head. 

“Your mother—”

“Isn’t here,” Wesley repeats for what must be the billionth time. She’s left him, just like everyone does, and that leaves their quarters all to him. No more hiding. He can keep Will over. 

But Will shakes his head again and finishes, “Wouldn’t approve.” He lifts higher on his arms, hands to either side of Wesley’s naked frame, knees shifting; his flagging cock slips out of Wesley’s soaked ass, and Wesley’s head tosses back with his gasp. He tugs at Will’s shoulders again, digging pink finger-marks into the skin, and he groans and tries to snare Will with his thighs, keep the daring first officer down, locked inside him. Will grins fondly at him but disentangles. 

Will shifts the blankets over and falls beside Wesley, lightly shoving him over to make more room in the middle of the bed. Wesley goes where he’s put and reaches back, grabbing for one of Will’s wrists. He takes it over his waist and is delighted when Will allows it, when Will shuffles up along his back, spooning him tight. The smooth expanse of Will’s sweat-slicked skin is heaven from head to toe, and Wesley cuddles into all of it, idly running the soles of his feet along the fronts of Will’s ankles. Even soft, Will’s cock fits so perfectly between the cheeks of Wesley’s ass. Wesley tilts his head back like a cat preening, rubbing his hair against the curve of Will’s neck. And Will chuckles and bends to kiss his cheek. 

“You know it doesn’t look good for the first officer to wander out of a teenager’s room in the morning, don’t you?”

Wesley bites back the cringe Will’s sure to feel—always does, even when he tries to hide it—and mumbles, “Can we not have that argument now?” It’s _always_ an argument. Will says he’s too young, even though he’s only a teenager by _one_ year; he’s still an adult; and then Will always gives in, then fucks him hard, then feels guilty. Wesley doesn’t _care_. He’s smarter than half the full crew members on this ship, and he’s legal—has been legal for a while on several Federation worlds—and he _knows_ he belongs with William Riker. He squirms in place, deliberately sliding his body along Will’s, and then he rolls over onto his other side so he can bury his face in Will’s neck. He wraps his arms around Will’s body and pulls up close: too close to be pushed away. Will smells musky and raw and thick, and it’s almost overpowering, but Wesley likes it. Before Will can fight him, he calls, “Computer, lights, zero percent.” They flicker down in an instant, and Will chuckles again.

“Tricky little thing, aren’t you.”

“I didn’t trick you.”

“You’re making it difficult for me to leave.”

Wesley sighs through half a yawn and mumbles happily, “So don’t leave.” Honestly; it shouldn’t take a wonderkid to figure that one out. 

He can almost _feel_ Will’s smirk. He knows Will’s pleased, and he knows Will wants to say. They’ll come up with something. He mutters, “You were helping me study?” It’s a lame excuse, but it’ll do. “We worked so hard we fell asleep.”

“Mm,” Will purrs, deep voice trailing closer to Wesley’s ear. The scratch of his beard tickles Wesley’s jaw line and makes him want to laugh. “We certainly worked hard.” Wesley’s grinning too; Will is teaching him, in a way. 

Will is the best pillow he’s ever had. The best teddy bear. The best boyfriend, the best lover. Wesley clings to him and cuddles close, even though it’s too warm and Will’s body is an inferno the blankets trap in. Wesley means to say good night, but he’s too sleepy to put the effort in to really form the words. Instead, Will rubs his back soothingly and whispers in his ear, “Good night, Wes.”

Wesley feels good all over and has a feeling the morning won’t change.


End file.
